I hate my shadow

No matter where I walk

It becomes distorted and warped

A false image of me

Even when I'm on my knees

Hands grabbing the asphalt

I can see the faded images

Of your past and future lovers

Distinct and steady lines that are not my own

Maybe it's my old glasses wearing down

Lenses growing thicker each year

But you see them too right?

Lurking behind my clothes

Weaved into stitches I recklessly rip

Maybe you've grown used to them

Tiny patterns that morph into a solid color

When viewed from a precise distance

I still hear them like skeletons sitting in my closet

Taunting me from behind closed doors

You don't hear them, do you?

They've turned into shouts to whispers to

Silence at the right distance

You don't hear them

You don't hear them or see them

They've been laced into my skin

When I stare too long at my reflection

I can see them looking back

Another false image of me

After playing housewife and sowing seeds belonging to someone else, I come home to see a face that is no longer my own.